I Am Not Whole
by Inari Kasugawa
Summary: Something is missing in Francis' life. Human names used.


I Am Not Whole

He woke up in the morning, shivering cold; the window was open again. He didn't remember opening it but then again, he didn't remember much from the night before, he had been out drinking with a few other nations to kick off the week long stretch of meetings they were about to begin.

oOoOoOoOo

As the days of presentations went on though, there was one thing that that bothering him. It was ruining him; days and nights of worrying, it was tearing Francis apart. He didn't know where Arthur was, he hadn't seen him in weeks. He tried to argue with himself that there was no reason for him to be so disturbed by his rival's absentee status, but it did. Without Arthur around, there was no one to fuss with to break the monotony of each speech that Ludwig presented, no one to complain about the childishness of Alfred's ideas, no one who would oppose him at every turn.

As Francis sat in attendance at the latest world meeting, he kept taking glances at the seat normally occupied by Arthur and saw that it was still empty. He chewed his pen and barely took note of anything being said. He was loath to admit it, but he had been losing sleep over the matter. Where was his Angleterre?

He had asked around after the conference –the very last that would have to be endured- and, subtly, so as not to give off the impression of being concerned or anything, but all answers were negative. Kiku showed a bit of concern, and Alfred didn't seem to have even noticed. He had thought for a brief moment to look for Matthieu, but just barely missed seeing the other slip into a taxi on his way home.

He resigned himself to a dreary trip home and an average evening, re-heating some soup he had in the refrigerator and winding down his evening with a glass of wine; as tired as he was, he wouldn't just forgo his evening rituals. By the time he had showered, barely bothering to put on more than a pair of boxers, and crawled into bed. His eyelids felt so heavy that he silently prayed his house would not catch fire in the night; because there was no way that he would wake up.

As quickly as he fell asleep though, his sleep was equally torn by fits. He tossed in his slumber, uneasy for some reason or another, his dreams convoluted masses of colour and worry. It all stopped rather suddenly as a familiar feeling took hold of him, and he drifted soundly into sleep. He tried to turn to become more comfortable, though his arms felt tangled. Reluctant as he was to wake and ruin the first length of good sleep he had gotten in ages, he forced his eyes open to adjust to the darkness of the room.

And there he found the reason for the weight in his arms. Pressed against him, nuzzling against his bare chest, was a head of sandy blond hair, cast grey in the dark. Francis' breath caught in his throat for a moment, and part of him told him that he must be dreaming; but the feeling of sleeping breath on his skin was too real. He ran a hand down Arthur's side, he felt thin, and a curious hand wandering underneath his shirt betrayed bandages that wound around the Brit's body. Feeling a chill, Francis turned his head to see that the window was open.

He moved his attention back to the man sleeping in his arms. "Arthur… _ma moitié_… Where have you been?" He spoke softly, trying to avoid waking the other man, though he moved the arm that Arthur was laying on slightly so that the hand could softly pet his hair. Francis held Arthur against himself and felt his chest constrict, not quite understanding how he could have been missing Arthur so much.

Francis buried his nose in Arthur's messy hair, breathing deeply his smell, pressing barely-there kisses to the side of his head. He could feel that his eyes had become heavy again, but he knew that as soon as he closed his eyes, he would fall asleep again. "_Je t'aime, _Arthur. Please visit again soon."

And Francis let his eyes fall shut. He knew that in the morning, his arms would be empty, and the night air will have chilled the spot where Arthur had lain, but as he drifted, he shifted himself against Arthur, as though to defend him from the unseen enemy that kept him away, whispering whatever came to mind until he was asleep again.


End file.
